


Drum Major, Is Your Band Ready?

by SpicyTomatoSauce



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, I mean EVERYONE - Freeform, M/M, Marching Band, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-02-18 22:54:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22267864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyTomatoSauce/pseuds/SpicyTomatoSauce
Summary: A Newsies marching band AU. Their marching band is based off of mine a lot, so bear with me.Jack is a drum major. He loses all hope for any happiness at all, and then he meets the reporter from the school newspaper, who has been assigned to keep track of the band's progress throughout the season. Band member x band member romances are already hard. What about band member x school reporterThe classic story of flirty drumline boy meets stressed out colorguard girl-or boy, in our case. Specs is under a lot of pressure, being the colorguard section leader. He's never really had time for dating anyways, but by some miracle, a drumline boy is assigned as his show partner and well-colorguard kids could never resist the drumline anyways.Race is clumsy and disorganized. His grades are all over the place and the only thing that really keeps him sane is band. Then he meets Spot, a baritone player. Spot is tough and angry with nearly everybody all the time. He was sure it was a bad idea to join his new school's marching band and upon meeting Race, he isn't sure if joining really was a bad idea.
Relationships: Jack Kelly/Katherine Plumber, Romeo/Specs (Newsies), Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 11
Kudos: 23





	1. What A Great Start To The Season

**Author's Note:**

> I'm having a post season depression right now, so bear with me. I have ideas for our three relationships: Sprace, Spromeo, and Jackerine (or whatever you call Jack and Katherine) 
> 
> Hi to any of my friends reading!
> 
> I love all y'all readers. Thanks for bearing with me through this awful writing.
> 
> (I'll try to get better at it, I promise)

Ah, yes. Band camp. Those two weeks before school starts in which the marching band is working their asses off. Jack, as one of the band's two drum majors, was kind of dreading band camp. It meant regulating and keeping track of 107 insane band kids. But he was there an hour early to help get everything ready, block off the parking lot, etc. 

He took a deep breath as he stepped into the band room and let comfortable smile slip onto his face. He'd been stuck at his house for weeks and now, he was finally where he considered home. As he pulled the cones out of the closet in the back, the door opened.

"Jack! Good morning!" Jack turned around.

"Hi, Mr. Denton," he greeted.

"Ready for band camp?" the man asked. Jack gave him the best smile he could manage at that early in the morning.

"I sure am," he said. Mr. Denton nodded.

"Oh, and I forgot to tell you! Our principle decided that the band hasn't gotten enough recognition as of late. He assigned us a reporter from the school newspaper to keep track of our progress." Jack put down the cones.

"What? Why?" he asked. Mr. Denton gave Jack a sly grin.

"Make sure those cones are evenly spaced, yeah?" Jack sighed.

"Sure." He went outside and glanced around the parking lot that they would be practicing on for the next four months before setting everything up. 

He still had an hour before everyone else showed up.

And the other drum major wasn't here yet.

What a great start to the season.

\--------

Specs hadn't even wanted to be section leader. He thought there were going to be more people, but the few people who were going to be seniors this year suddenly quit, leaving Specs, a lowly junior, to take over as section leader. He didn't know how to really be section leader. With the instruments, mostly everyone in those sections already knew how to play their instrument, including the few eighth graders they had joining them. 

With colorguard, it's harder. You can't just hand the newbies a six foot pole and tell them to figure it out.

So Specs was at the school about ten minutes early to find the practice flags. Their instructor had a job during the weekday, meaning that they wouldn't be there until the second half of the day. Meaning it was up to Specs to take the eight newbies and teach them everything.

He set the flags outside under a tree next to the parking lot that had been deemed the Guard Tree. Every section had their own spot around the lot and no one questioned it. Flags set down, a quick wave to Jack, and waiting.

When the guard began to show up, he greeted them with a smile and a granola bar each. (He didn't want any of them to pass out during drill.) He started to explain everything to the new kids.

There were three eighth graders, two freshmen, and three sophomores. All new. And then there was himself and Smalls and Hannah, who had all been there for three years already.

That was it.

The eight new kids struggled through a drop spin warm up and then Specs made them do it again, slowing them down and constantly correcting them. It was exhausting.

And it had only been five minutes.

What a great start to the season.

\--------

Race was late. Very late. It wasn't his fault that his mom had moved his trumpet last night or that he couldn't find his water bottle or that his car was out of gas. 

Okay, maybe some of it was his fault.

He arrived ten minutes late, after all the stretches, and cursed as Jack forced him to do 20 pushups.

"I thought you were my friend!" he whined. Jack shrugged. 

"I'm also drum major. Two pushups for every minute you're late. Go." Race's skinny-ass noodle arms just barely managed to get twenty down before he collapsed on the grass.

"You're mean!" he protested as he stood up. Jack ruffled the younger boy's hair. 

"Get to your section," Jack said. Race huffed and grabbed his trumpet. The rest of the trumpet section were, as usual, next to the front ensemble.

"Hi, Race," Crutchie greeted from his piano. "I thought you'd never show up." Race very politely flipped him off, and then immediately turned around, pulling his trumpet out of the case and inspecting it.

He was still late to everything.

He was late getting into the music warm-up, late getting into marching exercises, even late getting to his first spot in drill. Every sigle one meant more pushups. 

Race had been late to every single thing today so far.

What a great start to the season...


	2. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine meets Jack, Specs meets a snappy drumline kid, and Spot shuts down an annoying trumpet player.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Updating a fic that has multiple chapters?
> 
> It's more unlikely than you think.

Katherine hadn't even wanted to do this. Her father had made her because, in his own words, "I think it's time the band got some recognition." She enjoyed going to the debate teams meetings, or Mock Trial, or Model UN. Not marching band, with all the noise and gross sweat and much-too-flirty trumpet boys. 

So she arrived at the school at 9:05 on the dot to ask the director or drum major some basic questions about the show. And then she would leave them alone until the first football game. Nothing more. She watched the band figure out the first couple spots (she didn't know what they were called. Sets? Was that it?) and then turned to the director once a water break was called. 

"Excuse me. Mr. Denton?" The young man turned around. "Ah, hello! You must be the reporter from the school newspaper!" he said with a cheerful smile. Katherine nodded.

"Yes, sir. If I could just ask you some questions about--" 

"Sorry, not right now. I have to go talk with the colorguard director, see what she has planned. I would be glad to talk to you afterward, though. Or you could go talk to Jack, I'm sure he'd be happy to answer your questions." 

"Jack?" 

"The drum major." Mr. Denton pointed to a small podium-type thing, where a boy was sitting down, taking sips of water from a water bottle. "This is his fifth year in band, he knows as much about it as I do. Gotta run! Thanks!" Katherine watched as the teacher headed off toward the school and sighed, reluctantly walking over to the podium. 

"Excuse me? Are you Jack?" she asked. The boy looked down.  
"The one and only. Actually, nevermind, there's another Jack here this year-that's beside the point. What can I do for you?" 

"I'm Katherine Plumber, I'm a reporter for the school newspaper. I have a few questions about the show..." Jack smiled and moved over slightly on the podium. 

"Come on up." Katherine hesitated before slowly climbing up onto the stand. "What kinda questions did you have?" he asked.

"Um..." Katherine looked at her notepad to distract herself, trying to focus. "What's the name and basic plot of your show?" 

"The name is Extraterrestrial and it's about an astronaut who gets lost in space-the astronaut is from the drumline, I think-and is then guided back to his spaceship by an alien of some sort...the voice over and the dude who wrote the show calls him the God of the Stars, so like...I guess. Oh, and he's played by one of our color guard members." Katherine frantically scribbled to get all the information down and then looked at her next question. 

"Okay, what about goals? What's your plan?" 

"We always plan to make it to State Finals, obviously." Katherine fired question after question at Jack until finally Jack had to stop her. "Look, we gotta get back to work. I'll answer more of these later. I'm sorry. Nice to meet you though." Katherine shook Jack's hand and climbed down off the podium. She allowed herself to watch a moment longer before leaving, looking over her notes. 

She supposed that band wasn’t all that bad.

\---

It was the third day of band camp and Specs was going over the sabre work that his instructor had taught him. The other sections were setting up and tuning and getting ready for their first drill day. Everything was calm and peaceful.

Until it wasn’t.

“Ow! Hey, watch it!” someone shouted. Then the quiet voice of one of Specs’ freshman answered.

“I-I’m sorry, I thought--”

“You thought what, maybe you could toss a flag so close to the drumline and not hit someone?” 

Specs sighed and jogged over to the freshman and whoever she had hit. 

“What’s going on here?” he demanded, putting a hand on the freshman’s shoulder. The drumline kid glared at him.

“This dumbass newbie of yours thought she could toss her flag this close to where drumline is practicing and the damn flag hit me!” The drumline kid did not look happy. Specs looked down at the freshman.

“What did you even toss?” he asked. The freshman dropped her head.

“It was just a single…” she mumbled. “That’s all.” Specs sighed. 

“Alright. Set your flag down and take a water break,” he said. “Then I’m sure Mr. Denton will want us to start on drill and you won’t have to worry about tossing.” The freshman nodded and turned away, going over to where the rest of the guard was sitting under a tree, out of the sun.

Specs turned his attention to the drumline kid. “Lay off on her, she’s just a freshman.” The kid shrugged.

“I don’t care. You’re the section leader, deal with your section.” Specs adjusted his glasses and shook his head.

“Look, it was just one toss gone wrong. I’ve been hit plenty of times and I’m fine. Walk it off,” he said simply. The kid sneered.

“Fine. But I swear if I’m hit during the show-”

“You won’t be. By the time our show is done, the freshmen shouldn’t be hitting anyone unless you get in their way.” 

“So then I guess I better hope you’re the guard member playing the God of the Stars,” the boy said. “Cause I’m getting the way of that guard member a lot.”

“I am,” Specs answered easily. “But wait, you…that means you’re the-”

“The astronaut? Yeah.” Specs bit his lower lip to keep himself from cursing. The drumline boy shook his head. “Look, just keep the newbies far away from the band until they’re ready or there’ll be problems. Got it?”

“Got it,” Specs muttered. Who was this kid ordering him around? Specs was sure he had been in the band last year…Specs just never paid much attention to the percussion. And of course he had to be the astronaut and of course one of the newbies had to hit him with a flag and of course the kid had to be so irritatingly hot-

Specs shook all those thoughts out of his head and walked back to his guard. 

“Okay, up. I have drill sheets for you.”

\---

Spot had played baritone in his old school’s marching band, but that was a small band and he was one of two baritones. He didn’t really have to worry about social interaction with the band because no one was in the band. After moving to The World High School for his senior year, he looked at the marching band.

And he immediately said nope.

It was way too big of a band. Too many people in all of the sections. Too much time for social interaction and he wanted nothing to do with it.

Until his mom forced him to join.

Spot had pretty much avoided everyone for the first two days of band camp, only telling the baritone section leader his name. Otherwise, he stayed silent.

Spot did not expect their first drill day to go smoothly. And he was right. But he also didn’t expect a very loud, very rowdy boy to run into him.

“Watch it,” he snarled, shoving the boy off of him. 

“Woah, okay, calm down there,” the kid said with a laugh. Spot gritted his teeth.

“Don’t call me that,” he mumbled. The kid raised his hands in a surrendering position.

“Look, man, I’m just trying to get to my dot. No need to go all Wolverine on me.” Spot rolled his eyes.

“Pay attention to where you’re going and we won’t have a problem,” he answered. The kid shrugged. 

“Fine. But really? A baritone, in the middle of the trumpet section?” the kid asked with a snicker. “I think you’re in the wrong spot, man.” Spot raised an eyebrow and glanced behind him.

“You sure about that?” he asked. The annoying boy looked around. Sure enough, behind Spot was an army of baritones and mellophones. The boy’s face went red and he looked down at his drill sheet, walking away without another word.

Spot felt a little better now as he watched the kid walk away, where the trumpet section was. Spot rolled his eyes.

Of course the damn kid was a trumpet player.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the idea for the band's show was actually a dream I had. And I swear I have a plot for this, we're just taking it slow. 
> 
> But I like to think it's a good plot.
> 
> K bye


	3. The Thing About Friday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Ok. Hi there y'all. I'm finally updating. I am not dead. You may rejoice.

Lunch brought everyone together-or everyone who knew each other already. The band room was soon filled with kids, making the space very loud. Jack took his lunch and went to his usual spot: the guard room. 

A few seconds later, Specs showed up, then Davey, the other drum major. Then Smalls, Mush, Boots, Sniper, and Crutchie. Race was the last of them to appear in the tiny guard room (which was really just an old practice room that had been modified for colorguard). 

The tiny guard room then became about as loud as the band room. Everyone was chatting and at one point, Specs and Crutchie locked Race in the small cabinet that contained the flags. But because there was no lock, Specs had to lean against the door to keep it shut.

“Hey, guys!” Jack called. The guard room went silent in two seconds. “Wow. Okay. Uh, did you know that we have our own reporter for the school newspaper?” Specs completely forgot about Race and left the cabinet alone.

“Seriously?” Mush asked. “Who?”

“Her name’s Katherine,” Jack answered. “She came and talked to me today about the show. She wants to talk to you,” he said, gesturing to Specs. 

“Me? About what?”

“About having the solo, I guess,” Jack answered, taking another bite of his food. Race fell out of the cabinet and sat down next to Specs.

“Please tell me you all saw the new baritone kid,” he said. Everyone except Jack and Davey shook their heads.

“The short one?” Jack asked. 

“The kid who just moved here?” Davey added. Race nodded.

“Well, I ran into him today-literally-and he’s so angry. I mean, all I did was bump into him and he got all upset and then he told me I was in the wrong spot and he had the absolute fucking audicity to actually be hot-”

“That’s rough, Race,” Sniper said with absolutely no emotion to her voice. “Really. I feel for you.” Race very graciously flipped off Sniper.

“I think it’s his height. It’s gotta be his height,” Race continued. “Everything that’s tiny is angry.” Everyone ignored Race after the initial statement and left him to his own.

“Hey, Jack, who has the other solo?” Boots asked. Specs rolled his eyes.

“Some whiney drumline kid. One of my freshmen hit him with a flag and he wouldn’t calm down about it,” he said.

“A drum solo?” Mush asked. “I’ve never heard of that.”

“Neither have I. I thought it was gonna be a trumpet solo, maybe a baritone or a flute.”

“What part of the drum line is he in? Quad? Snare?” Boots asked. Specs shrugged.

“Guess we’ll find out sooner or later,” he answered. “So the new baritone kid?” Specs turned to Race, who looked up immediately.

“Total bitch,” he answered immediately. “Shouldn’t bother with him. Trust me.”

“...I’ll take your word for it,” Davey answered. The group finally wrapped up lunch and went back out on the field. After lunch was sectionals, and the colorguard instructor still wasn’t there.

Specs huffed and shook his head. “Alright! We’ll start with dance this afternoon. Get ready for a quick warmup.”

>>>>>>><<<<<<<

Katherine couldn’t help but return to the band. She was curious, about the band, about the members, and…about the boy. The drum major, Jack. She wanted to see him again.

She appeared at the parking lot and frowned, looking around. “Excuse me?” she asked, tapping a boy on the shoulder. He turned around from his section and adjusted his glasses.

“Yeah? What’s up?” he asked.

“Um…I’m the reporter…I was looking for Jack?”

“Jack the drum major or Jack the clarinet? Kelly or Faulkner?” the boy clarified.

“Um…the drum major.”

“That would be Kelly. He’s with the saxophones, over by the prop shed.”

“Thank you. I’m Katherine, by the way.” She stuck her hand out and the boy shook it.

“Spencer, but you can call me Specs. I’m the color guard section leader,” he responded with a smile. Katherine smiled.

“So you’re the one with the solo?” she asked curiously. Specs nodded.

“Yep. But go find Jackie, I can answer your questions later.”

Katherine nodded and hurried over to the prop shed at the back of the school. Jack was indeed there, clapping his hands in place of a metronome. She watched the kids march for a moment before walking over.

“Mr. Kelly?” she asked. Jack turned.

“Well, if ain’t Ms. Plumber!” he greeted. He waved to who Katherine assumed was the section leader to keep going and then gave Kath his undivided attention. “Whaddya need?”

“Well…I wanted to interview you further if you had more time,” she began. Jack grinned.

“Always. C’mon.” He led the way to a tree just a little ways away from the trumpets. Race caught his eye and winked. Jack waved him off and sat down, inviting Katherine to do the same.

Katherine sat down and smiled. “So when is your first show?” she asked.

“Two weeks from today,” Jack answered. “And our first competition is a week after that.”

“And how many competitions will you be having in total?” Katherine continued. Jack paused to count on his fingers.

“Like…somewhere between nine and eleven. A lot. Hey, it’s my turn to ask you somethin’,” he said suddenly. Katherine blinked in surprise but nodded.

“What is it? Sorry, that was another question.” She blushed and Jack laughed.

“Just one question. Are you free on Friday night? At, let’s say, 7:00?” he questioned. Katherine blushed more and stammered.

“I-I think I am,” she finally managed. Jack grinned.

“Great! You got a phone?” He pulled his own out and handed it to Katherine, who punched her number in. “I’ll see ya then.” He gave her a quick wink before he got up and left.

Katherine let out a shocked, breathy laugh. “Well then…” She stood up and watched the trumpets for a moment before leaving the school. 

“Friday…”

>>>>>>><<<<<<<

Specs turned back around after the reporter girl had gone only to find that the their instructor, Ms. Caitlin, had arrived. She waved Specs over and the boy jogged over.

“Spencer, I want you to start working on your solo. The drill. With the snare player,” she clarified. Specs shook his head.

“Caitlin, I--”

“Spencer.” She gave him a pointed look. “Drill. Now.”

Specs groaned but followed Caitlin over to the drumline and watched as she pulled the boy away from the rest of his section.

“Spencer, this is Romeo. Romeo, Spencer,” she said cheerfully.

“Yeah. We’ve met,” Romeo said a bit harshly. Spencer forced himself to shake hands with the boy.

“Mr. Denton will help you two with drill work. I have to get back to the guard.” Caitlin left them just as Denton came over.

“Alright, you two!” He clapped his hands together. “Let’s get started!”

Later, as Romeo grabbed Specs’ outstretched hand as Denton had instructed, Specs sighed. “Sorry about the freshie hitting you,” he mumbled.

Romeo rolled his eyes. “It’s…fine.”

Denton applauded as he walked back over. “Incredible! Okay, you two, I want you to stay late on Friday to work through this more, maybe start incorporating our equipment into it. Okay?”

“Okay,” the two boys said in unison. Specs glanced at Romeo and sighed.

“Friday…”

>>>>>>><<<<<<<

Race turned back to attention as Jack waved him away. His section leader was talking, but Race’s attention-and gaze-wandered towards the baritone section just a little ways away.

The small kid--Sean, Race had heard someone call him--was doing what he was supposed to and paying attention to his section leader. Then his gaze snapped to Race almost immediately and his eyes narrowed.

Race stepped back in shock, accidentally breaking the trumpet block and catching the attention of their section leader, Ace.

“Race? Is there something wrong?” they asked, not unkindly. Race looked up and nodded.

“Yeah…just…I need some water,” he said quickly. “Please.” Ace nodded and Race broke away from the block, going to his water bottle and taking small sips as he watched Sean go back to his work.

“Racer!” Race turned to see the school’s orchestra teacher, Mr. Kloppman, approach him. “I need you to stay after practice on Friday, if you can. We just got a ton of new drill sheets and it would mean a lot if you helped to organize them. I’m gonna ask another person to help you, don’t worry.”

Race smiled and nodded. “Of course, Mr. Kloppman.”

“Good. Sean!” The man waved the baritone kid over and Race cursed. “Sean, this is Anthony.”

“You can call me Race,” Race grumbled. Mr. Kloppman remained oblivious. “I want you two to stay after practice to help organize drill sheets, if you can. Would you please?”

Spot gave Race a glare but nodded. “Sure.”

“Great! See you two Friday!” Kloppman waved goodbye and Race groaned.

“Friday…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many ideas for these and already have a few chapters written in advance so they should be out fairly soon!
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> ~SpicyTomatoSauce


End file.
